It is certainly winter...
I have a slight objection to Canadians who write about the weather. We are, after all, in Canada. We're not sure why the original settlers came here [There'd better have been a damn good reason, though] but they came.
And now we have to suffer.
It's been windy for the last week. And by windy, I mean that it's not actually safe to venture out of doors. I'm starting to forget exactly what it is that being outside feels like without fear of being blown flat on your ass in the middle of the street. And while normal people wouldn't walk in the middle of the street; well, you don't have that much choice once the Hand of God puts you there. That's right. I just compared wind to the Hand of God, because that's how it feels when the ice and wind is suffocating me and tossing me around aimlessly while I walk.
When a West wind blows, in particular, I have trouble being in my bedroom. Now, I'm no contractor. I'm certainly not the next great architect of the twenty-first century. I will not likely ever build a Sistine Chapel. I can't even build a dog house. However, it seems that the person who measured the windows for the frames in this building was in desperate need of a new pair of bifocals. Or a magnifying glass. Or the sense to touch the window and see if it fit before declaring this place suitable to live in.
He must have been from California. And I bet he drives a foreign car, too. AND, I bet he's a vegetarian who's never encountered snow, wind, or anything cold before in his life. Not even Ice Cream.
I've got the windows as closed as they can be; and yet, the wind blows on, making it's way through my curtains and on to freeze my sleeping form. The ice builds up on the insides as though it is trying to create the next Ice Castle to be featured on TLC. It is almost like the ice has a life of its' own, ideas, goals, and ambitions that it needs to follow. Like the ice's mother told it to follow every stream and climb every mountain.
The ice's mother should have shut the hell up.
At any rate, I'm freezing away in my bedroom always wondering what the solution is. I've tried packing tape, but packing tape doesn't get along very well with ice.
Oh, well. I'll just pretend that I've gone winter camping and go to bed grateful that the bears haven't gotten me.
Toonses
And now we have to suffer.
It's been windy for the last week. And by windy, I mean that it's not actually safe to venture out of doors. I'm starting to forget exactly what it is that being outside feels like without fear of being blown flat on your ass in the middle of the street. And while normal people wouldn't walk in the middle of the street; well, you don't have that much choice once the Hand of God puts you there. That's right. I just compared wind to the Hand of God, because that's how it feels when the ice and wind is suffocating me and tossing me around aimlessly while I walk.
When a West wind blows, in particular, I have trouble being in my bedroom. Now, I'm no contractor. I'm certainly not the next great architect of the twenty-first century. I will not likely ever build a Sistine Chapel. I can't even build a dog house. However, it seems that the person who measured the windows for the frames in this building was in desperate need of a new pair of bifocals. Or a magnifying glass. Or the sense to touch the window and see if it fit before declaring this place suitable to live in.
He must have been from California. And I bet he drives a foreign car, too. AND, I bet he's a vegetarian who's never encountered snow, wind, or anything cold before in his life. Not even Ice Cream.
I've got the windows as closed as they can be; and yet, the wind blows on, making it's way through my curtains and on to freeze my sleeping form. The ice builds up on the insides as though it is trying to create the next Ice Castle to be featured on TLC. It is almost like the ice has a life of its' own, ideas, goals, and ambitions that it needs to follow. Like the ice's mother told it to follow every stream and climb every mountain.
The ice's mother should have shut the hell up.
At any rate, I'm freezing away in my bedroom always wondering what the solution is. I've tried packing tape, but packing tape doesn't get along very well with ice.
Oh, well. I'll just pretend that I've gone winter camping and go to bed grateful that the bears haven't gotten me.
Toonses
posted by Amanda at 00:02
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